


Unmade

by Closemyeyesandleap13



Series: Unmade [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Natasha Romanov Backstory, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, On the Run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closemyeyesandleap13/pseuds/Closemyeyesandleap13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AKA What I'd do with a Black Widow/Hawkeye Netflix show if I was given one.</p><p>This fic is rated T, future works will be Mature.</p><p>It was also planned and mostly written long before AoU came out. AoU and everything past it was not taken into consideration and therefore won't be canon in this story.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> AKA What I'd do with a Black Widow/Hawkeye Netflix show if I was given one.
> 
> This fic is rated T, future works will be Mature.
> 
> It was also planned and mostly written long before AoU came out. AoU and everything past it was not taken into consideration and therefore won't be canon in this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Black Widow/Hawkeye Origin story for the MCU. Clint is sent to kill the infamous Black Widow, but his loyalty to SHIELD is tested when he realizes she's not the heartless killer they all thought her to be. On the run from both the Red Room and SHIELD, they must work together to figure out Natasha's past and decide her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA What I'd do with a Black Widow/Hawkeye Netflix show if I was given one.
> 
> It was also planned and mostly written long before AoU came out. AoU and everything past it was not taken into consideration and therefore won't be canon in this story.
> 
> Read on Tumblr: http://natashabromanoff.tumblr.com/post/150107740146

It was nearly two in the morning by the time Natasha Romanoff left the nightclub with Ralph Collins' arm slung around her hips. If Clint didn't know any better, he would have said that she completely missed the roofie Collins slipped into her drink an hour ago. Intel warned him that she was an amazing actress, and it was difficult to tell if she was just living up to that title or not as she giggled, stumbling into the back of a taxi with the man Clint had been watching her hunt for nearly three days now. The taxi pulled away from the curb, and Clint was careful not to lose sight of it as he hopped into the back of the car SHIELD had provided him with for this mission. 

San Francisco was still buzzing with life even at such a late hour, but his driver navigated expertly through the eternal traffic on Market Street, always keeping a few car lengths between them and Romanoff’s taxi.

“Coulson, this is Barton checking in,” he said into his SHIELD communicator. “Romanoff has left the club and I am in pursuit.”

“Thank you Barton,” Phil replied. “Let us know when you’ve finished the job.”

He shoved the communicator back into his pocket right as they reached the turn that led to the docks. The road twisted and turned for a ways until Natasha’s cab stopped at a dark, silent warehouse looking out over the water.

“Pull up the road a little before you drop me off,” Clint told the driver. It was absolutely crucial that he not be noticed until the right moment. Once they found a spot far enough away, Clint grabbed his bow and got out, quickly doubling back to the warehouse on foot.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” He heard Natasha’s slurred words from inside as he climbed up a ladder on the side of the building. The safest plan of action was to get a feel for her hand to hand combat style before taking that risk. Luckily, there was a series of catwalks running across the inside of the warehouse and he found a nice, shadowy place to watch her from.

“We’re allowed to be wherever I want us to be,” Collins grinned back at her, looking every bit the predator he was. After reading the guy’s file and seeing firsthand the way he’d been with Natasha all night, Clint had already decided it wouldn’t be a great tragedy to society if he ‘mistimed’ his arrow and let Natasha take the guy out first. No one at SHIELD would mourn a sexual predator. Hell, under different circumstances, most SHIELD agents might have applauded her. But Clint knew this wasn’t her usual type of target. The Black Widow didn’t have a ‘usual’ type. It was well known that she was willing to use her talents for anyone who paid high enough. If she was hunting Collins, it was only because somebody with a lot of money wanted him dead, not because of any moral code.

Below him, Natasha stumbled, letting Collins catch her easily against his chest. The redhead was all giggles and endearing, drunk, clumsiness as she held on to the man’s shoulders for support. Her eyes fell shut and suddenly Collin’s hands drifted too low. Natasha didn’t move and for a moment, Clint started to doubt whether it was still an act or if he was actually going to have to intervene on her behalf. He may have been sent to kill her, but he had standards after all. He was an assassin, not a jerk.

Collins leaned in to whisper something in her ear and Natasha smirked, letting out a small laugh (darker this time, definitely not a giggle – Clint immediately heard the difference) before pulling her head back and slamming it into Collins’ nose with full force. Obviously caught off guard, Collins stumbled backwards. Natasha gave him no time to find his balance before she attacked again. Clint sat back to watch, trying to pick up on as many nuances of her fighting style as he could. She definitely didn’t fight fair and she was more agile than anyone he’d ever seen before. Collins was a trained, professional fighter and nearly twice her size, but Romanoff outmaneuvered him easily, dodging his blows and sneaking in several of her own.

There was something almost mesmerizing about the way she fought, and on several occasions Clint found himself actively rooting for her rather than just passively observing her style. Before long, she had Collins backed into a corner, wielding a heavy lead pipe that she’d somehow managed to acquire during the fight. As she was about to land what would likely be a finishing blow to his head, Collins grabbed her wrists and twisted them viciously. It seemed like a rookie mistake to Clint and he cocked his head in curiosity as Collins gained the upper hand by wrapping one hand around Romanoff’s throat.

“Who are you working for?” Collins demanded angrily.

Natasha squirmed, pulling at the hand on her neck. “Bite me,” she snapped defiantly.

The fingers tightened and Collins gave her a shake. “Don’t make me ask twice.” There was a silent struggle for a moment before Collins suddenly released her, howling in pain and grabbing at his shin. “You bitch!” he growled, practically spitting the words at her. Clint’s eyes traveled down to her feet, and he couldn’t hold back a grin of appreciation. He’d thought the high heels would be a setback for her if anything, but what the hell did he know?

Collins straightened to face Natasha. “Fine, don’t tell me.” His face twisted into a cruel grin. “You know, I probably should have mentioned the stuff I put in your drink earlier…You won’t be on your feet for much longer.”

Natasha’s face fell in horror and she took a few clumsy steps away from him. “No…” He laughed and swung a heavy fist at her. She attempted to duck out of the way, but she was a fraction too slow and the blow connected hard with her cheek. Immediately, she crumpled to the floor. Clint tensed as Collins grabbed a nearby wire and straddled her waist. Someone else was about to do his job for him and for some odd reason, he felt a wave of possessiveness hit him. The infamous Black Widow was his target. He knew he shouldn’t care about how the job was done, as long as it got done, but it just didn’t seem right for her to be killed by this creep.

Before Collins got the chance to wrap the wire around her neck, Natasha’s eyes snapped open and her hands shot up to grab his wrists. Clint felt a twinge of relief that he couldn’t quite justify. 

“You know, I probably should have mentioned that I ditched the drink while you were checking out the brunette with the massive cleavage.” She shoved Collins’ fists backwards so that he ended up smacking himself in the face and then quickly flipped their positions so she was on top. She yanked the wire from Collins’ obviously stunned grip and wrapped it around his neck without hesitation. “Not a classy thing to do while you’re on a date, by the way. I would say you should use this as a learning opportunity but…well,” she shrugged and smirked as she tightened the wire. “I don’t think you’ll be going on anymore dates after tonight.”

Collins’ eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he thrashed wildly, trying to throw her off. But Natasha was clearly done with games, fiercely aggressive as she choked him. She only relented after the thrashing stopped. The warehouse was suddenly so quiet that it was actually a little unsettling. Natasha checked for a pulse and was apparently content with what she found, because she climbed off of him quickly and pulled out a cell phone.

Clint very reluctantly took aim. It felt like a tragedy to let so much talent go to waste. For a brief moment, he thought about what an incredible asset she would be with the proper motivation and resources. But Director Fury himself had decided it was useless to negotiate with her. Clint’s official orders were to kill, not capture. They’d been very specific about that, and he wasn’t really in the mood to argue with his boss this week.

“It’s me,” she said shortly to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Job’s done. Should I meet you at the usual place?”

His fingers began to release, but a loud crash made him pause. Several men – Clint counted seven – in dark clothing with their faces concealed had smashed through the windows to ambush her. Natasha clearly hadn’t been expecting it either because she dropped the phone and looked around wildly. She had no trouble incapacitating four of them, but the last three were proving to be a little more difficult. They seemed like they had memorized her fighting style, expertly blocking every one of her moves. Clint could see that she was quickly getting frustrated at not being able to gain the upper hand.

An arrow was still aimed at Natasha’s head, but Clint hesitated. It would be so easy to just end everything right now. With all the commotion, she would never see it coming and he would be long gone by the time any of the men below figured out where the assault had come from. His jaw tensed with indecision a second before he let the arrow fly. It hit its mark with perfect precision, and the man behind Natasha crumpled to the ground.

Natasha’s gaze immediately shot up to the ceiling and their eyes met for a brief moment, just long enough for him to register her look of confusion before she turned her attention back to the other two men. With renewed vigor, she took them out quickly and then looked back up at Clint, eyes measuring him suspiciously. If he hadn’t just seen firsthand how dangerous she could be, he might have been amused at the sight of her – small and pretty in her black dress and high heels, glaring up at him from the middle of a pile of bodies.

“Who the hell even uses a bow and arrow anymore?” she finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted. “I just watched you choke a guy out with your thighs. Who the hell does that?”

“Well now you just sound jealous,” Natasha grinned at him.

Clint chuckled. “You’re a good fighter though, I’ll give you that.”

“Thanks.” Something in her expression changed and she suddenly looked softer, like she was much less likely to snap someone’s neck at any moment. She tilted her head to the side and smiled innocently at him. “Why don’t you come down here so I don’t have to shout across a warehouse to you?”

“No way,” Clint said with a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

She seemed annoyed, and the innocent act slipped a little as she muttered, “I feel like that’s debatable.”

“Who were those guys anyways?” he asked as If he hadn’t heard the insult.

“I don’t know. You make a lot of enemies when you’re…well. Me.”

“Alright I’ve gotta ask. Why did you fake Collins out at the end?”

If she was unnerved at all by the fact that he knew her target’s name, she definitely didn’t show it. “I was getting bored.” She shrugged. “Thought it would be more interesting if he believed he actually had a chance. I’ve gotta have a little fun somewhere in my life.”

“You have a weird definition of the word fun.”

She smirked. “So it’s been said.” There was a small pause before she spoke again. “Is there a reason why you’re stalking me but apparently not trying to kill me?”

“Oh, I am going to kill you, actually,” he said casually, as if she’d only just reminded him of his original mission. “Just got a little distracted.”

“Really.” Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. She didn’t seem intimidated in the least.

“Yeah, well I mean…you’re my mission. Couldn’t let those douchebags steal my thunder.”

“So chivalrous,” she rolled her eyes. “Are you going to tell me who you are or do I have to come up there?”

“Agent Barton,” he said. “You ever heard of SHIELD?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave a little shrug. “Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“The government organization whose secret files you hacked last week?”

“Oh, right. I should’ve guessed hacking into your systems was bound to piss a few people off."

"Well, after what happened in Sao Paulo you were already one of our most wanted.” He watched her face carefully, but once again she didn’t show any signs of fear or intimidation. He continued anyways. “But hacking into our systems and disabling all our firewalls? That got you bumped to the top of the list. Congratulations.”

She sighed. “Oh, calm down. I wasn't looking for anything of importance to any of you.”

“Then what were you looking for?"

“That's none of your business,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You know, you do an awful lot of talking for an assassin. I would have taken me out by now.”

“If I really wanted to take you out, I would have done it while you were distracted with those other guys.”

“Like a true gentleman,” she mocked with a serious nod. “Alright, then what do you really want?”

Clint hesitated. His orders had been very specific. But this just…felt like the right call. Fury and Coulson would respect that, wouldn’t they? Most people in SHIELD had somewhat shady pasts…himself included. Why shouldn’t this girl deserve a second chance?

“Have you ever considered using your skills to help people instead of hurt them?”

“Excuse me?”

“What if I could get SHIELD to give you a job? Would you take it?”

Natasha eyed him carefully for a moment, then snorted out a laugh. “You have a much better chance of killing me than recruiting me, Agent Barton.”

“Your call,” he shrugged. “Although it seems like such a waste of talent. Think of what you could do with all of SHIELD’s resources…”

She gestured to the pile of bodies around her. “You may not have noticed, but I don’t need your resources. And I don’t really play well with others.”

“Oh, that I noticed. Well…suit yourself. I tried.”

Without any more warning he took aim again, but she leapt into action, rolling to the side and ducking behind a pillar just as one of his arrows flew past her head.

“Your aim sucks,” she called up to him.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he called back, already reaching for one of the specialty arrows with the exploding tip. The next one wouldn’t matter if it hit her or not.

With quick fingers, Natasha reached over to one of the bodies and snatched a knife from the dead man’s belt. Just as Clint loaded the next arrow, the knife whizzed past him. He had some smart retort about her aim sucking worse, but it didn’t get the chance to leave his lips. The knife had stuck in one of the ropes holding up the platform he was on, and it suddenly groaned and creaked under his weight. Realizing what she’d been up to, he dove for the ladder just as the platform collapsed.

Gripping the ladder tightly, he scanned the dark warehouse for any sign of her and was just able to make out her amused eyes staring back at him from behind her pillar. Catching his gaze, she grinned and quirked one eyebrow before turning and making a run for it. By the time he fumbled for his bow, she was already gone.

“Shit.”

He was going to be in so much trouble.

~~~

The man on the other side of the desk had fixed Natasha with an intimidating scowl. He hadn’t said a word to her since she’d walked into his office five minutes ago, and she knew exactly what he was doing. Staying silent and making her uncomfortable enough to speak first was one of the oldest tricks in the book when it came to asserting dominance over a situation. Luckily it was one that Natasha was immune to. She stared back at him blankly, tapping her fingers lightly on his desk in a show of unaffected boredom. A few more seconds, and he broke.

“What happened after you called me?” he asked.

“I lost the connection,” she lied calmly. “That pre-paid cellphone was a piece of crap. I wasn’t exactly getting a good signal.”

“I thought I heard something before you hung up. Like glass breaking or something.”

“Why would I lie to you about that?” she frowned in confusion. “The job’s done. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that if there’s anything going on with my assassin, I want to know about it,” he said. “I can’t have someone working for me who keeps secrets. The last one who kept secrets from me…let’s just say things didn’t work out very well for him.”

“Well,” she said, amused and unaffected by the obvious threat. “Good luck with finding an assassin who doesn’t keep secrets.”

He was glowering at her, but Natasha wasn’t afraid of him. The man was too lazy to take care of any of his own problems, and the only people in this building who posed a threat to her were the bodyguards outside his office. She could disappear before they had the chance to do anything. Still, she wanted to stay on his good side. At least until she got what she wanted. Quickly switching personalities, she softened her face, crossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her elbows on his desk.

“Let’s talk payment.”

“Right,” he said, clearly still suspicious of her. Regardless, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across to her. “As promised.”

Natasha opened the envelope and flipped through the bills. With a small frown, she looked back up at him.

“You were supposed to have information for me, too,” she said.

“Oh, that,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. “My computer guy ran into some complications. He’ll have it for you soon.”

“You said the same thing two weeks ago,” she said, narrowing her eyes a little.

“You’ll have your information when I say you can have it,” he snapped.

It was an effort to keep from leaping across the desk at him. Natasha clenched her teeth and reminded herself that she would never get the rest of her payment if he was dead. He reached back into his desk and pulled out a folder this time, setting it in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked, not touching it.

“Something for you to do while you wait,” he answered.

Natasha shook her head. “I’m not doing anything else for you until you hold up your end of the deal.”

“I’ll give you double what’s in the envelope.”

That made her pause. She glanced down at the envelope in her hands and thought about just how much was double.

“Desperate for money,” he laughed. “My favorite kind of woman. Tell you what, do this last job for me tonight and I will personally make sure my computer guy has your information tomorrow morning.”

She reluctantly reached for the file. Jason Summers was the name printed across the top of the page, along with some basic information – addresses, phone numbers. A picture showed a dark-haired young man who looked like he was in his early twenties.

“Little shit’s dad borrowed a lot of money from me and won’t pay it back,” he explained as Natasha studied the file. “I’m done waiting. Make an example out of him. Send a message to his dad, and all the other people in this city who still owe me money. My sources say he’ll be at the Top of the Mark lounge tonight.”

Natasha slid the folder back to him. She’d already memorized everything and it was safer to not leave a paper trail anyways.

“And you’ll have my information tomorrow morning?”

“Any information I can get on the Red Room will be yours tomorrow morning,” he promised.

~~~

The Top of the Mark, as it turned out, was a classy place on the very top floor of a five star hotel. Natasha chose a long, black dress with a slit that came up just above her knee, mostly because it provided easy access to the pistol strapped to her thigh. But showing a little skin was usually also very helpful in these cases.

As she reached the lounge, she immediately took note of her surroundings. Bar, dance floor, dining area. Standard ritzy patrons. No one that jumped out to her as an obvious threat. She ordered a drink from the bar and sipped it until the young man she recognized from the picture walked in with a group, all of them immediately heading for the dining area. Though she would have preferred to get a better feel for his personality before going in for the kill, she was in no mood to drag this out. The plan was to be swift – make contact, get him alone, take him out. Be back in her hotel room before midnight.

Downing the rest of her drink, Natasha pushed the glass away and hopped off her barstool. A man’s hand suddenly grabbed hold of her upper arm, keeping her in place.

“Let me buy your next drink?” he asked.

Natasha spun angrily to fix the man with an irritated scowl, ready to tell him off for grabbing her. Instead, she came face to face with Agent Barton. Clint grinned and Natasha let out a deep sigh.

“You have got to be kidding me.”


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you have a deathwish?" Natasha hissed quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Clint asked innocently, the hint of a smile playing at his lips as he took the seat next to her. "I'm just here to get a drink and socialize."

"Bullshit. How did you know I would be here?"

"SHIELD has eyes everywhere," he said with a shrug, then gestured to her empty glass. "What were you drinking?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah, come on. It's the least I can do for...you know."

"For shooting an arrow at my head last night?" she said in a harsh whisper.

"Yeah. Yeah, for that." He waved down the bartender. "Two of whatever the lady was drinking."

Neither of them said anything until the man returned with their drinks in hand. Making a snap decision, Natasha grabbed both, her hand sliding almost imperceptibly over one of them. The poison had been meant for Summers, but she had other means of dealing with him. The priority was disposing of Agent Barton so she could actually get to Jason. She handed the drink to Barton with a small, coy smile and watched him stir it. 

"So who are you here for tonight?" he asked. 

"Nobody."

"Come on, you're all dressed up and looking like you're prepared to choke a man out with your thighs again, you have to be here for somebody."

The drink was still untouched, and Natasha had to give him credit for being observant. But she was observant too, and her trained eyes immediately caught when he swapped their drinks. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and played along as if she hadn't noticed. "Is this your plan? Show up everywhere and annoy me to death?"

“Okay, don’t tell me,” he said, eyes already looking past her to scan the crowd. “It’ll be more fun to guess anyways.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The light haired one who looks like he used an entire tub of gel in his hair? Your seven o’clock?”

Natasha stubbornly kept her gaze on Barton, refusing to look at whoever he was pointing out.

“No? Umm. What about the guy with the weird nose, next to the blonde in the green dress.”

Again, silence. No reaction. Just a carefully guarded, slightly irritated stare.

“Okay, okay, I got it this time. The dark haired one who looks extremely uncomfortable in his fancy suit. Sitting at the big table with a bunch of snobby looking people. He’s got like a blue-ish tie.”

Natasha didn’t have to look to know who he’d just described. Her jaw clenched involuntarily in annoyance. Barton’s face lit up. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner! He looks nice. I think I’ll go say hi.”

“Don’t you dare!” Her hand shot out to grab his sleeve, making his drink slosh around dangerously.

“Aw, come on, drinks here are really expensive,” Clint said with a frown, steadying his hand. His eyes flicked to the side, where the bartender was watching them curiously. Natasha noticed too and reluctantly let his sleeve go. Clint threw her one last smug look before wandering over to her target.

Several minutes passed before Natasha brought herself to look at him again, but when she did she found that he had somehow managed to successfully insinuate himself at Summers’ table and was chatting animatedly with her target and the rest of the group. It was becoming increasingly clear that Barton was planning on playing guard dog until he was sure the guy was safe. Waiting him out would not be an option tonight.

He caught her eye from across the room and gave her a smirk. Smug satisfaction was written all over his face at having foiled her and before she really knew what she was doing, Natasha stood up and headed over to the table, untouched drink in hand.

“Clint?” she asked, carefully constructing her face into a mixture of polite confusion with just a hint of annoyance. “I thought you left. You said you’d come right back.”

Clint looked a little thrown off and he eyed her carefully, trying to figure out what her game was. “I um. I’m sorry? I got distracted. This is Senator Summers’ son. You know my company’s been trying to endorse his campaign for a while now, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk business.”

Natasha was a little impressed with the sound alibi he’d managed to come up with for Summers in such a short amount of time, but she kept up her own act without hesitation.

“That’s nice dear, but I thought we were kind of…in the middle of something.”

The pet name definitely threw him off, and Natasha watched with satisfaction as he stuttered a little and glanced from her to Summers and back again. “Um. Well, you know how important my work is to me…” he hesitated slightly before throwing in, “…honey.”

“I thought you agreed no work tonight,” Natasha chastised before turning her attention to the dark haired young man. “I’m sorry, is he bothering you? He can be a little overzealous about his work sometimes.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m here on business anyways. But if you two were in the middle of something important…”

“Well, I guess we’re not anymore,” Natasha said sharply, raising an eyebrow at Clint. Clint winced and the other man gave him an amused, sympathetic look. “Since we’re already over here, we might as well get to know this Mr. Summers who Clint won’t shut up about.” Without any further notice, Natasha snatched a chair from the table behind them and scooched herself in between Clint and her target, much to Clint’s dismay. Then, just because she could, she took hold of Clint’s hand and leaned her shoulder against his. The way he tensed up in confusion made her bite back a triumphant grin. He would not win this game tonight.

“Oh, well um,” Jason looked a little surprised, but went along with it. His eyes darted down to where her hand was clasped with Clint’s and Natasha thought she saw something like sadness and longing in his eyes. She brushed it off as he kept talking. “Clint was just saying that he’s been hoping to endorse my father’s campaign.”

Natasha gave Clint a mischievous side-glance. “Why don’t you give him one of your cards, sweetie?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Jason agreed. “I can call you to set something up for this week.”

“Yeah…great.” It was Clint’s turn to give her an annoyed glare, much to Natasha’s satisfaction. She smiled at him. Pulling his hand away from hers, he dug around in his jacket pocket for a second before putting on a confused look. “Oh…I think I left all my cards in my other wallet. Why don’t I call the office tomorrow to set something up?”

Natasha bit back a smirk. He wasn’t too bad at undercover work after all. As much fun as it was to watch him squirm under the pressure, she stayed silent as the boys fell back into discussing work. Over the next half hour she learned that Jason Summers had just started interning at his father’s office, and even though he mentioned several times how happy he was to be going into politics, his face said otherwise. The group he was here with was made up mostly of other interns, which explained why he didn’t mind Clint talking business with him – this was clearly more of a work outing than a social one. She also learned that Clint was actually pretty good at bullshitting his way through a conversation.

But the most important thing she learned was that Jason Summers was drinking the exact same thing as she was. With some quick strategic placement while Clint was busy talking, she managed to position their glasses right next to each other. She waited for a lull in the conversation before taking Jason’s glass and standing up.

“Well boys, if you’ll excuse me for a second, I saw one of the girls I work with. I’m just gonna go say hello real quick.”

Clint watched her cautiously as she walked away, his eyes staying on her all the way to the elevator. After pressing the down button, she turned back to face him and caught his gaze. Slowly and deliberately, she took a drink, downing what was left in the glass. Clint’s face broke into a grin and she smiled back at him before letting her eyes flick sideways to watch as Jason lifted her poisoned drink to his lips. Clint frowned in slight confusion before following her gaze. A quick double take back to her, and then realization dawned on him. With a shout of surprise, he hurriedly knocked Jason’s glass out of his hand, spilling it all over both of them and the table. The elevator opened behind her and as she backed into it, she could just barely hear Clint apologizing profusely to Jason while making up something about seeing a bug in the drink. The last thing she saw before the elevator doors slid shut was Clint glaring at her.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of her cell phone ringing woke Natasha from her already light sleep the next morning. Powell’s gruff voice was on the other end of the line.

“You didn’t call to confirm the kill last night.”

Natasha sighed and rubbed her eyes to make herself more alert. “There were some complications.”

“What kind of complications?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it under control,” she said a little defensively. “It’ll be done within a few days.”

Powell was silent for a few moments, obviously unhappy with the delay. He managed to sound somewhat collected when he replied. “Well, suit yourself. I’ve got that file you asked for. The longer it takes you to finish this, the longer you have to wait for it.”

Natasha sat up in bed, fully alert now. “You have my file?”

“I’m staring at it on my desk right now,” he gloated. “You know, I had to send some guys all the way to Moscow to get this damn file, you better be grateful. Looks interesting too, I might just have to take a peek at it. What is a Red Room anyways?”

“Moscow?” she frowned. “And don’t read my file.”

Powell laughed and ignored her. “The senator’s throwing some big fundraising gala at the opera house across from city hall on Friday night. I know you get all pissy when I tell you how to do your job, but that would be perfect, you know? Really send a message to that lying sack of shit.”

“Fine. Don’t read my file. I’ll be in on Saturday morning to pick it up,” she said coldly, snapping the phone shut.

~~~

Clint had never been entirely comfortable in a fancy suit, and now was certainly no exception. The tie was too tight around his neck and the sleeves were too stiff to really move in. He’d be out of luck if he needed to use his bow tonight, but Romanoff didn’t seem to want to make too much of a scene in taking Summers out. As long as he made sure the guy stayed in a fairly populated area all night, they would both be set.

Drink in hand, Clint wandered around the lobby of the opera house, always keeping a watchful eye on Summers. After a while, he shifted his attention to looking for Romanoff. He knew there was supposed to be a performance later, and he wanted to locate her now instead of in the middle of a dark theater.

She beat him to it.

A hand shot out of seemingly nowhere, gripped his tie, and dragged him into one of the more deserted hallways, away from the commotion of the party. Romanoff looked angry as hell as she shoved him against a pillar.

“Oh good,” Clint said, unaffected. “I found you.”

“This ends now.”

“Woah, someone’s cranky tonight,” he frowned. “What’s the matter Romanoff? The foods good. And more importantly, free. And there’s supposed to be a ballet later. Relax.”

Something dangerous flashed in her eyes, but he couldn’t quite put a name to it.

“I’m not in the mood to play games with you anymore,” she snapped, tightening her grip on his tie. For a terrifying moment, Clint thought she was going to strangle him with it. And he knew she could do it, too. He was just reaching for the knife inside his jacket when a voice interrupted them.

“This area is off limits to guests.”

A waiter was scowling at them irritably from a few feet away.

The tension broke and Natasha’s entire demeanor changed instantly. Her hand loosened its grip and her eyes widened in embarrassment and surprise. There was no trace left of the murderous glare that had hardened her face only seconds before. Clint had known she was a good actress, but it was a little unnerving to see just how quickly she could switch in and out of personalities.

Natasha gave a nervous laugh that Clint almost believed. “How embarrassing.” She ducked her head shyly and looked up at the waiter through her lashes. “I told him sneaking off like this was a bad idea…”

Immediately, the man was a bundle of nerves, backpedaling to keep from upsetting her further.

“I mean I don’t care. Just…just if my boss catches you back here, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Understood,” she nodded solemnly. “We’ll go back to the party now. Sorry.” She linked her arm with Clint’s and led him away. As soon as they were out of eyesight, they broke apart, both of them practically shoving away from each other.

“You’re good.”

“Stay out of my way,” she warned, all the fire back in her eyes now that they didn’t have an audience.

“Not a chance in hell,” he replied, his own voice taking on a dangerous edge now as well. She fixed him with one last glare before turning away from him and disappearing into the crowd.

Ballet had never really been Clint’s thing, so he couldn’t say he was all that moved by the performance. He had chosen a spot a few seats down from Jason and the senator. Much to his amusement, Natasha chose the seat directly behind him. It was impossible to keep an eye on her from this angle, and a little unsettling to have an enemy directly behind him but just out of sight, which was probably why she’d chosen it. But he also knew that there wasn’t a damn thing she could do either to Jason or himself in a theater full of people. Too many witnesses and too many bodies to block her from making a clean exit.

Still, he stayed on guard for the whole performance, because if there was one thing he’d learned from shadowing Romanoff, it was never to underestimate her. He listened carefully for any signs of movement from her direction, any sounds that would indicate she’d drawn a weapon. He managed to casually glance back at her once, but all of her focus on the stage rather than on him or Summers. She looked almost mesmerized by the dancers, eyes wide and a little glassy. Something snapped her out of it and he saw her wince, close her eyes, and shake her head slightly. When her eyes opened again, they landed on him. Thoroughly confused, Clint raised his eyebrows in a silent question and was answered only with a cold glare and a hard kick to the back of his seat.

Afterwards, Clint followed the rest of the crowd back out to the lobby. He lost Natasha immediately, which didn’t surprise him at all by now, but he kept Jason in his line of sight.

“Clint, you made it,” the senator said loudly from several feet away. He was with a group of other fancy looking people. “I didn’t see you before the performance.”

“Well, you looked busy,” Clint explained politely. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“No, no,” The senator said, motioning him to join their group. “My campaign supporters are never bothering me.”

Everything about the man felt fake. The smile, the kind words. Unlike his target, this man was not a very good liar. But Clint reluctantly smiled and came to stand beside him anyways. In the maybe ten seconds it took to shake hands and make introductions with the others in the group, Clint lost sight of Jason.

“Hey,” he interrupted, immediately on alert. “Have you seen your son anywhere?”

The senator eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Oh, I just. I needed to talk to him about something. Nothing bad, don’t worry. I’ll see you later.”

The senator gave him an odd look, but didn’t argue as Clint left the group hurriedly.

Jason wasn’t at the bar, and he wasn’t with his usual group of work buddies, and he wasn’t in the bathroom (not that Clint was desperate enough to check there or anything). He was nowhere to be found and neither was Romanoff, which was the scary part. Clint cursed himself for taking his eye off the guy for even a moment. He hadn’t thought Natasha could snatch a person out from under his nose in less than ten seconds, but of course she could. He should have known. There were a few more places he could think of to check, and he didn’t have much time. Clint practically sprinted across the large room, ignoring all the curious looks he got along the way.

~~~

Natasha leaned against the railing that separated the audience from the orchestra pit, looking quietly at the stage. The performance had been a surprise, and avoiding it hadn’t been an option. She’d done her best to avoid thinking too much about it, and for the most part she’d been successful. Of course Barton had caught her one slip up.

Maybe if she waited in here long enough, Clint would think she’d left and she could take out Jason quietly.

The boy had to die tonight. There was no other option. It was almost unbearable, the thought that at this very moment someone had access to her file, and yet she wasn’t allowed to see it. Every question she had, every lie she was sure she’d been told. It was all in there. It was within arm’s reach, and yet it was still firmly in someone else’s hands.

She looked at the stage and thought about the dancers who had glided gracefully across it tonight. The way she had done the same once. That had been her entire world for the first seventeen years of her life.

Why did it feel wrong?

Why could she name every move and how to execute it perfectly, but she couldn’t remember the last song she’d danced to? That was a simple thing to remember, wasn’t it? There was no one performance that stuck out in her mind. It was a blur, like several different occasions mashed together. She tried to focus in on one dance in particular and immediately the sharp pain that had become all too familiar lately shot through her temples. She inhaled softly and redirected her thoughts. So far, that had been the only way to stop the pain.

Kill the boy. Get the file. Get the hell out of town, away from Powell and away from Barton. Disappear.

The door shut loudly behind her, breaking the train of thought. Natasha whipped her head around to see who had caused the disturbance.

“Oh,” Jason said, looking a little embarrassed. “That was louder than I thought it would be. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Natasha smiled, partially for Jason’s benefit but mostly because she couldn’t believe her luck.

“It’s alright,” she said calmly, turning all the way around to face him.

“Forgot my jacket after the performance,” he explained, moving down the row to his seat and scooping up the black jacket that was hanging over the back of the chair. “Hey,” he said with sudden realization. “Aren’t you Clint’s girlfriend?”

“Natasha,” she corrected.

“Right, sorry. I’m terrible with names. He didn’t mention you came tonight.”

“I’m gonna surprise him in a few minutes.”

“Oh.”

Natasha watched the hesitation flash across Jason’s face before he moved down the aisle towards her, like a lamb going willingly to his own slaughter.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning against the rail beside her.

“Yeah.”

“You looked sad.”

Natasha eyed him cautiously. It would have been so easy to make something up about having a fight with her ‘boyfriend’ or something dumb like that. But it felt nice to tell the truth once in a while. It wasn’t a chance she got very often. And it wasn’t like he would live long enough to gossip about it anyways.

“I used to dance,” she said.

“Not anymore?”

She shook her head. And that was as truthful as she could be tonight. She slipped effortlessly back into a lie with her next words.

“I injured my leg.”

“Aww,” Jason said, seeming genuinely sorry for her. “That’s a shame.”

She reached slowly for the gun holstered on her thigh.

“My boyfriend likes this artsy stuff more than I do.”

Natasha blinked in surprise. Jason looked over at her and gave a half smile.

“You don’t take him to events with you?” she asked, mostly to keep up the conversation. Keep his attention on something besides where her hand was.

“My dad thinks it’s bad for his campaign. I’m taking him out tonight after I get done with this crap.” He shrugged. “Gotta make it up to him somehow.”

Natasha froze, fingers hovering over the pistol.

Someone was waiting for him. Jason’s face was all lit up in a way she hadn’t seen on him before now. He had always just looked bored and slightly dejected, but now his eyes were bright and the smile on his lips was genuine. She thought about that light dying out forever. She thought about the other guy, getting all dressed up and ready to go out, waiting hours and hours for someone who would never show up.

But that had never been a complication before. Why did it matter?

It didn’t.

“Well,” Jason said, pushing off from the rail and heading for the door. “I don’t want to be late. See you around?”

Now, she thought. Do it now. Her fingers flexed uncertainly around the handle of the gun.

“Yep,” She said absently. “See you.”

It wasn’t until after the door shut behind him that Natasha let her fingers fall away from her weapon.

What the hell?

There was movement up in the balcony above her and Natasha didn’t have to glance up to know who it was.

“Oh good,” she said sarcastically. “You’re still here.”

“Did you really used to dance?” Clint asked, stepping into view.

“Maybe,” Natasha said stubbornly.

“Did you really injure your leg?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Has my leg ever seemed injured to you?”

“No,” Clint laughed. “Okay, so more importantly…why is Jason still alive?”

“Excuse me?”

“You won. I got distracted. I lost sight of him. You had no one stopping you from killing him just now. Why was he allowed to just walk out of here?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha said, a little defensively.

“Oh my god,” Clint said, grinning in amusement. “You felt bad for him.”

“I did not.”

“You so did. He told you something really personal…”

“Shut up.”

“And you couldn’t go through with it.” Clint laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh my god. You’ve got a conscience.”

“Shut up,” Natasha snapped. “It was a fluke, okay? He won’t be that lucky next time.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Mhm.” Clint swung his leg over the railing of the balcony and Natasha turned to watch him do a sort of awkward shimmy as he climbed down.

“God.” She shook her head in exasperation. “You are going to fall and break your neck.”

Clint let go and dropped the last few feet to the ground. “Wouldn’t that just make your night?” He said with a smirk, coming to stand beside her, leaning his elbows against the rail.

“No, of course not,” she smiled sweetly, mimicking his position. “That’s my job.”

He let out a laugh, and then both of them grew silent. After a moment, Clint asked, “Why are you doing this?” Natasha looked at him curiously and he continued. “This. Being a mercenary.”

“It’s just what I do.” She studied him carefully. He didn’t seem like he was going to ambush her right away. She could play along for now. “Not exactly a lot of other jobs that fit my skill set. Unless you have another career in mind for me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

It was meant to be a joke, and he knew it. But Clint answered seriously anyways.

“Yes.”

Natasha looked at him with some amusement, but didn’t speak.

“Come work for SHIELD.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “Again, Barton? Really? Okay. That’s a much better suggestion, thank you.”

“I’m serious!”

“Right, no, that’s a great idea,” she said. “I’ll just defect. Your bosses will be so thrilled to have me. Maybe afterwards we can all hold hands under a rainbow.”

“Well,” he said, rolling his eyes. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It is stupid.”

“It’s not,” Clint insisted. “Okay why are you so heartset on killing Jason? And be honest, this isn’t a test.”

Natasha eyed him cautiously. “Money,” she said. Which, to be fair, was half-honest.

“Money,” Clint repeated. “You think SHIELD couldn’t give you money? And benefits. I get some pretty great benefits. Resources, those are nice too. We get helicopters, lots of high-tech weapons and stuff. Extensive databases. You’d have access to all of that.”

“Not gonna happen, Barton.”

“Better pay, better benefits,” Clint continued anyways, “better resources. Better protection.”

Natasha’s attention snapped back to him at that last one and even though she tried to go back to looking uninterested, Clint had already caught it.

“Protection. That’s the one you want, isn’t it? What are you running from, Natasha?”

She shrugged, refusing to look at him.

“Those guys who attacked you in that warehouse. Who were they?”

He was too perceptive. Natasha shifted uncomfortably. “I told you, I don’t know.”

“I don't believe you,” Clint said simply. “But whoever they are, I can promise they're no match for SHIELD. We protect our own. But I can't help you unless you let me.”

Natasha frowned at him. No. She wasn’t seriously considering this, was she?

“And SHIELD would just willingly hire one of their most wanted?”

“I mean,” Clint shrugged. “It’s not like I was an upstanding citizen when they hired me.” At Natasha’s inquisitive look, he shook his head. “But that…is not a story you get to hear tonight.” He paused, lowered his voice in quiet sincerity, and asked one more time. “So if I can get them to take you…would you defect?”

Natasha took her time in answering. The biggest question was whether or not SHIELD was strong enough to protect her. Even if they weren’t, she’d stand a much better chance with the equivalent of an army backing her up than she would alone. And she had always been a survivalist. Even with the hazy memories and all the uncertainty, she knew that much about herself.

But her file. She was so close to having it. What it may or may not contain had eaten away at her for so long now, and she couldn’t imagine putting her questions on hold indefinitely. She had to know.

“Ask me again in a week,” she said softly, finally looking back over at him.

Clint deflated slightly and ventured a guess. “After you’ve killed Summers.”

She nodded. Clint began to protest but Natasha spoke first. “I have to. You don’t understand. You don’t know what’s really going on.”

“Then tell me.”

She looked torn, and Clint could see the indecision all over her face. Natasha opened her mouth to speak, then stopped suddenly. Her face went blank and she looked past him up at the balcony, standing on full alert.

“Natasha?”

“Shh. Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

She held out a hand to silence him and concentrated, squinting up at the balcony behind him. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she threw her full weight at him, tackling him to the ground. There was a split second where he was worried it had all been a trick to catch him off guard. But not too long after his back hit the ground, he heard the distinct thump of a bullet hitting the wooden rail they had both just been leaning against. Natasha was holding perfectly still on top of him, but he could feel her breathing heavily as she waited.

The room erupted into chaos.


	4. Chapter 4

Every door along the balcony was shoved open almost at once. Several men wearing all black jumped down to their level while several more took aim.

“Natalia,” one of the men called. He had a thick, Russian accent. “It’s time to stop running.”

“Oh,” Clint said. “Friends of yours then?” He saw what looked like actual, real fear flash briefly across Natasha’s face before she shoved away from him and sprang to her feet. In one swift movement, she jumped over the railing and into the orchestra pit. The men up top opened fire and Clint scrambled to his feet.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, following her lead and hopping down into the pit as well.

“Hold fire,” that same man barked angrily, and the gunshots ceased immediately. “The SHIELD agent is free to go,” he called. “We have no desire to anger your employers.”

“What the hell did you do to them?” Clint asked in a harsh whisper.

“Nothing,” she hissed back defensively.

She was fumbling for the gun in her thigh holster with clumsy fingers, which was not like her at all. She really was scared then. It wasn’t an act. This was who she wanted protection from. These people had to be dangerous if they had managed to rattle her nerves, and this was obviously going to get very messy. He could just walk away right now. It wasn’t his fight. What did he care if some shady people took out his target for him?

“Did you hear me?” The man repeated. “We can handle it from here. Leave now, Agent Barton.”

Clint took one more look at Natasha’s terrified face and sighed heavily.

“You so owe me.”

He plucked the pistol from her shaky fingers and aimed up at the ceiling, shooting out the light. They were all plunged into darkness and there was chaos above as the men shouted to each other in Russian and scrambled about. Clint could just barely make out Natasha’s shocked face staring at him in disbelief. The men above them were clicking on flashlights, and though it wasn’t enough to see much, it was enough to put them back in danger. Natasha gripped his wrist, tugging him towards the door the musicians used to get backstage.

Someone jumped down into the pit with them and threw a punch that just narrowly missed Clint’s head.

“Go!” he said, turning to deal with the other man.

Natasha gave him an odd look, like she still didn’t quite believe he was helping her. Like he was going to turn on her and throw her to the wolves at any moment. She turned back to the door, but it swung open before she could reach it and she let out a cry of pain. Clint glanced over to find another man with a gun aimed at her. He hadn’t heard the gun go off, but Natasha was gripping her arm like she’d been shot. Then with her uninjured arm, she grabbed the man’s gun, aimed it down at the floor, and headbutted him in the nose. Clint took out the man he was fighting with as quickly as he could before he hurried over to her.

“Tranq,” she said quickly, pulling the dart out of her arm and throwing it on the floor. “It’s just a tranq. I’m fine.” She swayed a little and Clint put an arm around her waist to steady her as they made their way backstage. He couldn’t know the dosage or what kind of tranquilizer it was, but as a general rule, she should have several minutes before she was fully incapacitated. They had to get somewhere safe before then.

“Wow, you really pissed someone off, didn’t you?” he said as they navigated the empty halls.

“Please stop talking,” she muttered, leaning heavily on him as they rounded a corner.

They made it out the stage door and Clint hailed a taxi, practically shoving her into the backseat as soon as it stopped. He jumped in after her and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Marriott, Union Square,” he instructed the driver, frantically digging around for his wallet. He handed the man a folded bill and added, “We’re kind of in a hurry.”

The driver took the money with a nod and did his best to quickly navigate the traffic on Van Ness Avenue. Clint kept watch out of his window, looking for any signs that they had been followed but Natasha hadn’t taken her eyes off him since they got in the car.

“What?” Clint said after a few minutes, turning to look at her. Her gaze seemed a little foggy and he could tell that she was fighting hard to stay somewhat alert. He expected her to have some pretty strong objections about going to his hotel, but instead she just gave a tired little half-smile.

“The Marriott? Your employers must really like you.”

Clint grinned. “See? Job benefits. They could be yours, too.”

She hummed vaguely in response and turned to look out her own window.

It was normally a seven minute drive, but their driver made it there in four. Clint made sure to tip him again for that. How Natasha managed to stay conscious long enough to get to his room, Clint would never know. She let him help her through the lobby, but as soon as the elevator doors closed, she pulled away and leaned against the wall instead. The sedative was really starting to kick in, and she was struggling to keep herself upright. But now that they were out of immediate danger, her guard went back up and she refused any and all help he offered, swatting his hand away and forcing herself to walk the rest of the way to his room on her own.

“Probably useless to try and get an explanation out of you until that stuff wears off some, huh?” Clint asked as he shut and bolted the door behind them.

Natasha mumbled something and swayed a little as she staggered towards the bathroom. She nearly fell, but managed to catch herself against the door frame.

“Woah,” Clint said, moving quickly towards her. “Hey, why don’t you sit down?”

The bathroom door slammed shut in his face and the lock clicked.

“Hey!” he said indignantly. He shook the doorknob. “At least unlock it!”

“Leave me alone, Barton.” There was a soft thump from the other side of the door.

“What if you pass out and hit your head and die in your sleep?”

“Then your job would be done, wouldn’t it?”

Clint made a frustrated sound and Natasha sighed.

“M’ laying down,” she slurred. “M’ fine. Go away.”

“I’m coming in to check on you in an hour.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious, one hour and then I’m picking the lock. And you owe me an explanation.”

No response.

~~~

As it turned out, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot to do in a hotel room all by yourself with a sleeping rogue assassin passed out on your bathroom floor. Clint tried watching TV but quickly found that he was too wound up to concentrate on anything. He couldn’t leave the room, for fear that someone would trace Romanoff and attack her while she was defenseless. In the end he settled for changing out of the stiff suit and into jeans and a t-shirt. Then he made coffee, which he suspected his new assassin buddy would desperately need whenever she woke up.

He had just fixed himself a cup and got situated at the little table by the window when his cell phone rang. Coulson’s number appeared on the screen and Clint let out a groan. How the hell did he begin to explain all of this?

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Barton? You missed your checkpoint, is everything alright?”

“Um. Yeah. There was a situation, but I uh…handled it.”

“Is the Widow down?” Coulson asked.

“I mean…technically, yeah,” Clint said, glancing over at the bathroom door. “Not dead, though.”

Coulson was silent for a moment and Clint could imagine the suspicious look that must be on his handler’s face right now. “Fury’s gonna want to know what’s taking so long,” Coulson continued. “How much longer do you think you’ll need for the kill?”

“Well,” Clint began reluctantly. “Turns out it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

The bathroom door creaked softly and Clint looked over to see it cracked open just slightly and Natasha eyeing him cautiously.

“Listen,” he sighed. “Let me call you back later. Just…just trust me, okay?” Before Coulson could protest, Clint ended the call and set the phone on the table. “There’s coffee.”

Natasha didn’t move.

“If I wanted you dead, don’t you think I would have done it while you were still out cold?”

That seemed to reassure her a little. The door opened the rest of the way and she slowly made her way to the coffee pot. Clint gave her a moment to fix herself a cup before he spoke to her again.

“How do you feel?”

“Awful,” she said, sitting in the seat across from him. “I don’t recommend it.”

Clint let out a small laugh before growing serious again. “Ready to talk?”

Natasha frowned and took a sip of her coffee.

“I helped you get away from those guys, I think I at least deserve to know who they were.”

“I want answers first,” Natasha said. Clint blinked in surprise.

“Okay?”

“Why did you help me?”

Clint shrugged. “A dead assassin is no use to SHIELD.”

“A dead assassin is exactly what SHIELD is expecting,” Natasha said, lifting an eyebrow. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to talk.”

Clint sighed. Any honesty between them would have to start with him.

“I don’t want to kill you, Romanoff.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because you’re talented,” he said. “You’re probably one of the best in the business. I don’t want to see that go to waste. But I would do it,” he added, warningly. “If I thought for a second you were nothing but a heartless killer, I would do it in a heartbeat. But you and I both know that isn’t what’s going on here. Who are you running from?”

Natasha looked down at her coffee cup, debating how honest to be with him. Even if she didn’t quite trust him, he still wasn’t as bad as them. It would be better to have him on her side rather than against her. It wasn’t like she had a whole lot to lose.

“Krasnaya Komnata,” she said quietly in Russian. “The Red Room.”

“Who are they?”

“They’re the ones who trained me,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his.

“Well that…wasn’t in your file.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, sounding a little irritated.

“That’s why you hacked into the SHIELD database,” Clint said with sudden realization.

Natasha gave that little half-smirk, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, I was trying to see if they had any cute archers I could kidnap and use as a bodyguard for a while. Boy was I in luck.”

“Natasha.”

She sighed dramatically.

“Fine, fine. Yeah, I was hoping SHIELD would have something on them. I thought a secret intelligence agency would…you know…have some secret intelligence.” She frowned. “Huge disappointment, by the way. I wasted like ten minutes of my life hacking in to your super secret files and you guys know even less than I do.”

“Ten minutes,” Clint repeated incredulously. I.T. would be outraged when they learned how easy it had been for her to get past all their firewalls. “Okay, but if they trained you, why do you need to find information on them? Shouldn’t you already know this stuff?”

“Well I don’t, okay?” she said defensively. She seemed a little agitated now, shifting in her seat and tapping her finger anxiously against her coffee cup. “I left and they’re angry and I can’t let them get ahold of me again.”

“So they’re bad?”

Natasha shrugged. “I found out before I left that they were doing some…unethical things with some of the other assassins.”

“Oh god, there are more of you?” Clint looked horrified. Natasha glared at him from across the table and he tried again. “What kind of unethical?”

“Altering memories. Conditioning behavior.” She seemed to only get more agitated as she spoke, bouncing her leg nervously now. “Information on the Red Room itself is nearly impossible to get, but the guy I’m working for now managed to get ahold of my personal file. He’s keeping it until I-”

“Until you kill Jason,” Clint finished.

“I have to know,” she said simply. “There are…gaps in some of my memories. If they changed anything…without that file, I could go my whole life not knowing.” Suddenly she inhaled sharply, closed her eyes, and pressed her fingers to her right temple, rubbing small, soft circles there.

Clint watched her movements carefully. “If I got you the file, would you leave Jason alone?”

Natasha’s eyes blinked open. “Yeah. I guess. You mean like breaking in and taking the file?” Clint nodded and Natasha gave him a skeptical look. “Boss goes heavy on the security, though. Cameras, guard patrols. All pretty heavily armed. And even if we got in to the building, I’m not sure where he’s keeping my file. It would take a lot of planning.”

Clint shrugged. “Sounds like fun.”

Natasha gave him an odd look, something between disbelief and amusement. “Give me a few days. I’ll come up with something.” Slowly, she got to her feet and headed for the door.

“Wait,” Clint protested. “How am I supposed to contact you?”

“You’re not,” she grinned, opening the door. “I know where you are now. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

“And Jason is safe?” Clint asked before she could leave. She paused in the doorway and nodded.

“Jason’s safe. From me, anyways.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates while I was in Disneyland! Updates should start coming once a week now instead of every day. Thank you all for the comments, kudos, likes, etc, they totally make my day! Also, if Natasha’s version of her background sounds a little off, that’s because it’s meant to ;)

“Let me get this straight,” Nick Fury’s angry voice boomed over the speakerphone, making Clint and Phil both wince. “I send my best assassin to neutralize a threat and instead he offers her a job?”

“Director Fury,” Clint began. “I know this isn’t exactly – ”

“When did you even get the authority to go around offering people jobs?”

“I think she would be an asset, sir,” Clint said firmly. “The first time I saw her fight, she took on seven guys twice her size and come out of it without so much as a scrape. Last night she resisted a tranq dart for at least a full ten minutes through sheer force of will. Don’t even get me started on how quickly she can switch in and out of character. Girl is talented,” he finished with a shrug, leaning back in his chair.

“Girl is a killer and a major thorn in my side,” Fury shot back. “She’s a problem and she needs to be dealt with.”

“And I’m dealing with it,” Clint argued. “Maybe not the way we all originally planned, but I really think we have a shot at getting her on our side here.”

“This isn’t a shelter for strays, Barton! I send you after a threat, you take her out, you come back, and you do the paperwork. It’s that simple.”

“Well I think you’re wrong on this one.” Clint said with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest. Phil cringed.

“Excuse me?”

“You just called me your best assassin. Have I ever let you down before?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Fury said.

Clint ignored him. “You ask me to do something, I go in, I get it done. How many of your messes have I cleaned up in the last few years? Without complaint, I might add.”

“I don’t think you know how to do anything without complaint, Barton.”

“The point is that you’ve always been able to trust me. And when have I ever asked you for any special favors?”

Fury didn’t answer.

“This is me, officially asking for a special favor.”

“Of course it is,” Fury muttered.

“Just give me one week,” Clint said. “Maybe it’s a little unconventional, but just let me try something.”

“Coulson,” Fury reluctantly asked, “what’s your opinion on this?”

Phil looked over at Clint, who was giving him a silent, pleading look. Phil sighed, ‘you better be grateful for this’ written all over his stern face. “I think we’ve always been able to trust Agent Barton’s judgment in the past,” he told Fury. “If it’s this important to him, it’s probably worth a try. Within reason, of course. At the very least, she could have important information, sir. You know our database is severely lacking in…that area.”

Fury was quiet for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh. “Barton, you have one week. If she’s not standing in front of me next Saturday morning ready to sign an employment contract, I’m sending someone else after her and demoting you both to desk duty. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

~~~

Three days passed without so much as a peep from Romanoff. Clint was starting to regret not insisting she give him a way to get ahold of her. The clock was ticking away and she had no idea they were on a tight schedule here. By Monday night, he was beginning to think she’d tricked him. But Coulson had assigned shadows to watch over Jason just in case, and as far as Clint knew, everything was fine on that end. Unless she’d just given up on that and skipped town completely…

On Tuesday morning, Clint woke to the scraping sound of the curtains being pulled open, followed immediately by a sudden bright light. He groaned, clenching his eyes shut and burying his face in the pillow. After a moment he also noticed the smell of coffee. Confused, he opened one eye and found Natasha sitting at the table by the window, watching him. When she saw that he was awake, she grinned.

“There’s coffee,” she said casually, turning to look out the big window at the city below.

Clint bolted upright in bed, pulling the covers over his chest. “Jesus Romanoff, are you serious right now?”

“What kind of special agent are you?” she asked, clearly unimpressed. “I’ve been here for like twenty minutes.”

“How the hell did you get in?”

She arched an eyebrow and gave him a ‘really?’ look.

“Right. Dumb question.” He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Oh my god, it’s too early for this.” Natasha bit back a laugh, taking pity on him and letting him crawl out of bed and make his way to the bathroom in peace. A few minutes later, he emerged looking slightly more human and went straight for the coffee pot.

“You’re welcome,” she said as he sat down into the chair across from her with his cup. He mumbled an annoyed response as he drank, then set the cup down.

“I thought you’d skipped town,” he said irritably.

“I was doing recon. I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh, yay,” he said unenthusiastically. “You couldn’t have found a way to let me know that’s what you were doing? A simple ‘hey, I didn’t lie to you and skip town’ would have worked. You know, I don’t have all the time in the world here. SHIELD’s gonna want an update soon.”

Natasha waited patiently for his rant to end. “Well you’re awfully whiny in the morning.” He grumbled something that didn’t sound very polite and went back to his coffee. Natasha pushed a file folder towards him. “I got you a job interview at Powell’s office this afternoon.”

Clint opened the folder and saw a resume and cover letter, both incredibly detailed and completely false. “Who the hell is Powell?”

“The guy I was working for who has my file,” she said, like he should have somehow known this already. “I know it’s early Barton, but try to keep up. Gary Powell runs this big successful business, but it’s just a front to hide his side job.”

“Renting out assassins?”

“Renting out assassins,” she confirmed. “His office building is where he does most of his business for both jobs, so it’s also where his heaviest security measures are focused. My best guess is that’s where he’ll want to hide my file.”

“Alright,” Clint said, looking slightly more alert now. “You want me to go in for the interview and what? Go get the file?”

Natasha gave him a judgmental look. “Barton, please. That’s a suicide mission and despite what you may think, I do actually want you to succeed.”

“Okay?”

“Go for the interview,” she explained. “Get the job. You’re interviewing for a security guard position that’s been recently…vacated.”

Clint winced. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just get the job, case the building during one of your shifts. I was only allowed in certain areas whenever I was there, but as a security guard you’ll have access to a lot more. Learn everything you can. Security codes, secret rooms, patrol schedules. All of it. After you’ve gotten all that, you and I will break in and get the file. Sound good?”

“Sounds time-consuming.”

“You have some place else you need to be?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. Clint considered telling her about Fury’s time limit, but then decided against it. A ‘join us or die’ ultimatum probably wouldn’t be all that helpful right now.

“No,” he sighed. “No.”

“Great,” she said, standing up. “You go get dressed and I’ll check back in a few hours to see how the interview went.”

~~~

Clint got the job with minimal effort, thanks to the flawless resume Natasha had put together for him. All he had to do was bullshit his way through some questions about his previous job experience, which wasn’t hard. Natasha called the hotel room later that evening, as promised, to check in.

“I start Thursday,” Clint said. “Tried to push for tomorrow, but that was the earliest shift they had open.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you back at your room after your shift and we can go over what you find out.”

“Think we can break in Thursday night?” Clint asked.

Natasha hesitated. “I’d rather you have a few days to look around the place thoroughly and make sure you aren’t missing anything important.”

“Fine, but we have to do it before Saturday. We can do it Friday night after my shift,” he said. “That’ll give me two days. That’s enough.”

“Why Friday?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just…because.”

“Okay,” she conceded. “If you think you can get everything by then, we can do it Friday. I’ll see you later.”

“Wait,” Clint said before she hung up. “You still aren’t gonna give me a number to reach you by? Or tell me where you’re staying?”

“Why would I do that?” He could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Because we’re working together now, you aren’t supposed to be all secretive.”

“Well,” she said slowly, like she was considering it. “Maybe…if you told me why you’re so determined to get this over with before Saturday…”

“Goodnight, Romanoff,” Clint said firmly.

“Night.”

~~~

Clint unlocked the door to his hotel room and found Natasha sitting in her usual spot at his table. He wasn’t all that surprised to see her there this time, but he did raise an eyebrow at the several covered plates surrounding her, some on the table and some on a rolling cart a few feet away.

“I ordered room service,” she said by way of greeting.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Told them to put it on SHIELD’s tab.” She sounded a little smug.

“I’m sure Coulson will be thrilled about that.” Clint sighed and tossed his jacket on the bed.

“Who?”

“My handler.” He sat down in the chair across from her and lifted one of the covers to see what she’d ordered and if there was any left for him. Most of it seemed untouched, and he had a strong suspicion she’d only ordered this much because she was bored and wanted to run up SHIELD’s bill.

“Well tell him I said thank you,” Natasha said. “And that the cheesecake was really good. So how was work?”

“Powell’s kind of an asshole, isn’t he?”

Natasha gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well. Maybe we’ll have to break something really expensive when we go in.”

That got a smile out of him. He stood and moved to grab a pen and notepad from his nightstand, then returned to his seat. He scribbled down several numbers, ripped the page off, and slid it over to Natasha.

“Security codes. Each floor has its own alarm,” he said, attention going back to the notepad. After a moment, he ripped that page off and handed it to her as well. “Basic outline of the floors and where alarms are placed. The arrows show the routine walk for patrols. The building’s mostly offices, he rents out the bottom seven floors to various other businesses. Top floor is his penthouse. All the heavy security measures seem to be focused there and in the two floors under it.”

“That’s where he does his less-legal business.” Natasha looked over the roughly drawn map in concentration. “I was only ever allowed to be on the eighth floor when I met him there.”

“He was on his way to the ninth floor when I met him today. He seemed really jumpy,” Clint said. Natasha looked at him curiously, so he elaborated. “Asked one of the other guards to escort him up. Kept touching his pocket. One of the female employees walked past him and he practically dove behind me for cover.” He had been expecting her to get a kick out of that, but she just frowned. “What, aren’t you proud of the impression you leave on people?”

“It means he’s expecting me to do something,” she explained. “I shouldn’t have ignored his calls this weekend.”

Clint looked at her indignantly. “Really? He gets to have your number, but I don’t?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “If he’s afraid of me, security will be tighter.”

Clint shrugged. “We can handle it.”

They set about making plans to break into the building. Clint had an evening shift the next day, so it was decided that they would wait until the building was mostly empty, and then he would let her in and they would work their way up to the ninth floor. Once they’d finished working out the details, Natasha gathered up all their notes into a neat pile. Clint watched her with a thoughtful look on his face.

“How’d you get tangled up with the Red Room anyways?” he asked.

Natasha froze, glancing up at him, and then back down at the papers in her hand. “I just…did.”

“Come on,” he urged. “You’re gonna trust me with your life tomorrow night, but you don’t trust me with a little bit of backstory?”

“I’m gonna take these back to my room and destroy them,” she said, ignoring him and holding up the pile of papers. “Can’t leave them laying around. Do you need to look at anything again or do you remember it all?”

“I dropped out of school and ran away to work at a carnival,” he said quickly.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you dare,” she warned.

“I was about to be brought up on theft charges when Coulson recruited me,” he continued.

“Nope,” she said firmly, shaking her head at him. “Not how it works.”

Suddenly, his face grew serious. Natasha could sense his hesitation and knew whatever he said next would be way more personal than the last two fun facts.

“My brother’s the one who set me up for those charges.”

The bitterness and hurt he felt over that betrayal was clearly written all over his face. It was the first time she could remember seeing him look even a little vulnerable. Natasha glared at him for a long, silent moment before finally letting out an exasperated huff.

“Dammit, Barton.”

Instantly, the vulnerability was gone and his face lit up in triumph. Wisely, he didn’t gloat or say anything, but sat back and waited for her to speak.

“I was in the Russian ballet,” she began. “I did that for as long as I can remember. I stopped because I got married. Then I get this visit one day from these men who said they worked in the Red Room. Told me my husband had been murdered, but that they were there to help me get revenge. They spent the next two years teaching me everything I know now.”

Clint snorted. “There’s no way you only had two years of training, Romanoff.”

“It’s not my fault that I pick things up faster than you,” she snarked back. “Now stop interrupting or story time is over.”

Clint held up his hands in a gesture of peace, and she continued.

“So they sent me after men they told me were responsible for Alexei’s death. I took them out without question. Then, like I already told you, I found out they were experimenting with bad stuff.”

“Mind control stuff,” Clint said.

Natasha nodded slowly. “I got scared and I left,” she finished with a shrug.

“And they didn’t like that,” Clint prompted quietly. Natasha shook her head.

“No. I was gone maybe two days before they started sending retrieval teams after me. And you know, I would understand if they were trying to kill me. I know things they don’t want getting out. But every single time, they’ve gone out of their way to capture, not kill. They’re going to an awful lot of trouble to bring me back alive.”

She had been planning to stop the story there. It was enough to keep him happy without revealing more than she was comfortable with. But Clint was looking at her with an odd look on his face, something between surprise and sympathy. She was fairly certain he wasn’t going to double cross her tomorrow night, but if she could play off that sympathy and insure his loyalty…

Being an expert manipulator didn’t always mean lying. Not when it was more beneficial to tell the truth. So that’s what she did.

“There aren't many things that I can remember being truly afraid of,” she said softly. “But the thought of going back there…it terrifies me.”

Clint didn’t speak right away, and Natasha let her words hang in the air.

"Well,” Clint said finally, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Like I told you. SHIELD can protect you, if you're willing to work with us instead of against us.”

Natasha gave a small laugh. “You make an awful lot of big promises. You sure your bosses can live up to them?”

"They will."


	6. Chapter 6

Getting inside the building was a cakewalk. Several hours after sunset, the man watching the security cameras found himself knocked out and locked in a nearby janitorial closet, along with two other unconscious guards. Clint made sure to disable the cameras and the alarm on the ground floor before letting Natasha in through one of the back doors. He fell into step behind her as she made a bee-line for the elevator. They reached the ninth floor without any trouble and as soon as they stepped out, a pair of double doors and a keypad greeted them. Natasha entered the code that was unique to this floor and waited. The keypad beeped and flashed a red light and the doors remained locked.

“Maybe you put it in wrong,” Clint said with a frown.

“I didn’t put it in wrong,” she hissed back quietly. She entered it again, this time saying each number aloud to prove her point. “Eight, five, three, two, zero, nine.” The keypad beeped and flashed red again. Natasha turned back to Clint and raised an eyebrow.

“He had to have changed the code like a few hours ago,” Clint said. “I just tested it when my shift started and it worked fine.”

“Ugh.” She immediately began looking around for some other way to get past the doors.

“Relax,” Clint said before she could do anything. “You think SHIELD doesn’t have a gadget for this?” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangle-shaped device. Without explanation, he took Natasha’s hand and scanned her index finger.

“Woah, hey!” she said, yanking her hand away and holding it against her chest protectively. She looked at him and then at the device suspiciously.

“It doesn’t store anything,” Clint said, tapping a few more buttons on the screen. “I just need it to ignore traces of your prints so it’ll pick up the real code.” He held the device over the keypad and Natasha moved to look over Clint’s shoulder, watching intently as it picked out six numbers and rearranged them in what it estimated was the likely order. Clint entered the new code, and the keypad flashed green and the doors clicked as the lock released.

Natasha looked back at the device one more time, now with interest and a hint of longing. Clint grinned as he shoved it back into his pocket. 

“Standard issue for field agents,” he said, pushing open the door and waiting for her to follow. “You’d get one too if you defected.”

She brushed past him, trying to shoot him a glare, but unable to muster up enough hostility for it. She looked more amused than angry.

“You said he kept touching his pocket the other day when he seemed so paranoid,” she said as she walked. “So a flash drive, maybe?”

"That's what I was thinking," Clint confirmed. "So he has his office, and he has a safe where he keeps valuables and money and stuff."

Natasha nodded. "So I'll check his office and you check the safe?"

They split up and Natasha ignored the little voice in her head that reminded her that splitting up was usually a bad idea. That was a myth...only in the movies...she had always worked better alone. 

Although she was quite capable of searching the office without upsetting anything, she deliberately tore it apart, amused at the idea of Powell walking into a giant mess tomorrow morning. Thorough as she was, there was still no trace of either a physical file or a flash drive that had anything to do with her. Once she was sure of this, she left the office to see if Clint's search had turned anything up. 

Oddly, the safe room was dark and Natasha immediately knew something was off. "Barton?" she hissed, feeling around for the light switch. Someone else flicked on the lights, and Natasha was greeted with the sight of Clint and Jason Summers, both restrained and in chairs, flanked by two beefy men with guns. But still no sign of Powell. One of the men stepped forward and handed her a phone. 

"What?" she snapped.

"Gotcha," came Powell's remarkably smug reply over the speakerphone. "Thought you could sneak your little boy toy in here without me catching on?"

"Well," Natasha said wistfully. "A girl can hope. What do you want?"

"Straight to business, I always liked that about you." When Natasha didn't bait him further, he continued, "See I could just kill Summers and your boy here myself-"

"You mean you can order someone else to do it," she interrupted. Powell never did anything himself if he could help it. 

"But," he said sharply. "I believe I remember asking you to do it. And I don't want you to leave here with the impression that you can disobey me. So I'm going to make you one more offer. You kill Jason or I'll kill you

Natasha grinned, then burst into laughter. "Fine. Kill the SHIELD agent. Like I care."

An indignant "hey!" came from across the room, but Powell was silent on the other end of the line. 

"...He's with SHIELD?"

"Mhm. And I may not care, but I'm willing to bet they do."

"But I bet you still care about your file." Nat fell silent as he called her out, and he continued, "So kill the kid, right now where I can see you." It was at that moment that she noticed one of the security cameras in the corner of the room, aimed at her. "And I’ll be over in two minutes to give you this file. If one of my guards has to kill him instead, I’ll destroy it."

Natasha looked directly at Clint and he knew that he was about to lose her. 

"Natasha," he begged, "There’s another way to get your information and I will find it, just don’t…”

Taking his cue from Clint, Jason spoke up as well, "Oh god. I don't wanna die, please..."

“You have thirty seconds to decide, Natasha,” Powell’s gruff voice said over the receiver.

Natasha glanced between the two restrained men in front of her, both still pleading for Jason’s life. Her face blank in an oddly numb sort of way, Clint watched as she pulled out her gun. He struggled against his restraints.

"Natasha you don't have to do this. Listen to me, please. SHIELD can get you whatever information you want…don’t do this.”

"SHIELD can’t get this kind of information for you.” Powell said. “It comes from a secure government server in Moscow. I had to fly someone out to their base to get these files for you. If SHIELD tried anything like that, they would end up starting World War III and I guarantee they won't risk that for someone as worthless as you. Kill the boy or I destroy the file."

"That boy has a name, Natasha,” Clint insisted stubbornly. “And people who love him. Look at him.

“Ten,” Powell began counting, with Clint talking over the top of him.

“He doesn't deserve to die like this.”

“Nine.”

“And you know it!”

“Eight.”

“You're not worthless, Natasha.”

“Seven.”

“But neither is Jason.”

“Six.”

“You're better than this!”

“Five.”

“Shut up!" Natasha snapped at everyone. The gun was aimed at Jason, but she glanced down at the phone in her other hand. "Secure server in Moscow?"

"Can only be accessed from their base,” Powell said smugly. “Took seven of my most skilled men to break in. Only four made it back out. You owe me big time for this, and you can start by finishing the damn job you were supposed to have done already."

"Natasha, please-"

Before Clint could get the rest of his plea out, Natasha had lifted her arm just slightly and pulled the trigger. The guard behind Jason collapsed and it took everyone a moment to process what she'd done before they all leapt into action. Clint doubled his efforts to free himself from his restraints. The other guard took aim, but collapsed as well before his finger reached the trigger. Everything fell silent and then Jason let out a sob of relief.

“Thank you…”

“Don’t,” she said stiffly, pulling out a pocketknife and cutting Clint free. She tossed the knife to him so he could help Jason and then left without a word.

“Nat!” Clint said, quickly cutting the zip ties on Jason’s wrists and helping him stand up. “Natasha!” he tried again, instructing Jason to stay where he was before following after her.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to see it,” she said, fiddling with the phone. She was dialing someone but they weren’t answering. “I need to know that he destroyed it.”

Clint took her by the arm. “Slow down, alright? Just…slow down.”

“No, if I can get him to answer the god damn phone, I can trace it, I can get there before he…before he ruins everything…”

“Nat…it’s gone, let it go,”

“No!”

“Let it go! I will figure out a way to get you your damn file, but this one is gone, alright?”

Natasha eyed him cautiously. “Whatever.”

She stomped off towards the elevator and with a long sigh, Clint headed back to retrieve Jason.

Natasha didn’t have to look any further than the front door for confirmation that it was over – laying on the ground in front of the exit was a crushed flash drive. Clint watched all the color drain from her face and for a moment, he half-expected her to scoop up all the pieces and demand they try it anyways. But instead, she took a deep breath, held her head high, and stepped over it.

~~~

“Where should I drop you off, kid?”

Jason glanced nervously between Clint, who was waiting for the stop light to turn green, and Natasha who was staring blankly at the crushed flash drive in her hand.

“Um, Ocean Avenue is fine,” he told Clint, who gave him a nod.

The next several minutes were spent in a heavy silence before Natasha finally spoke up.

“You’ll want to have SHIELD send someone to stay with him. Powell won’t drop this that easily.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much,” Clint sighed and hit a few buttons on his cell phone, only glancing away from the road for a couple of seconds. “Coulson. No it didn’t…I’ll uh, call you back for debriefing later,” he said with a quick sideways glance at Natasha. “Listen, I need you to send backup to watch out for Summers. Powell’s really gonna be out for blood now.” Another pause, and then Clint glanced back to Natasha. “Any idea where Powell might have gone?”

Natasha shrugged, not bothering to look at him. “He could be anywhere.”

“Think you could track him down?”

Another shrug. “I could. Given enough time. But I don’t work for you, and he has nothing of value to me. He’s not my problem anymore.”

“So that’s it?” Jason said from the backseat. “Guy tries to kill me and you’re apparently some kind of secret agent, and you can find him but you won’t because he’s ‘not your problem’? What kind of bullshit is that?”

Clint looked back to Natasha, waiting for something…any sign of the girl who had chosen a human life over her own desires earlier. There was nothing. She stared straight ahead, her expression cool and detached.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” she said finally. “I think we’ve all had enough near death experiences tonight.”

Clint sighed in defeat, but turned his attention back to driving. “Yeah, I know,” he said in response to whatever Coulson was saying to him, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Okay. Tell Fury…Fuck, I don’t know. Tell Fury not to worry about it. It’ll be taken care of. Look, I gotta go.”

Several more minutes later, Jason and Natasha were both glaring out of their respective windows, everyone refusing to acknowledge anyone else’s presence. And finally Clint snapped.

“You should have just killed him, then.”

The car lit up with a string of protests from both passengers. 

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sitting right here!”

Clint shrugged, ignoring Jason for now. “If you’re just gonna let Powell track him down again, then you obviously don’t give a shit. And I was actually starting to think you weren’t completely a lost cause,” he said with a bitter laugh. Natasha fixed him with an angry gaze. “You should have just killed him, and then you could have gotten your damn information, proved SHIELD right about you, and been on your way.”

“Yeah, well maybe it’s not too late,” she snapped back.

“Can you not provoke her while I’m still the car?”

“You know, none of the shit I’ve dealt with this week for you has been my problem,” Clint continued. “But I did it all anyways. What if I had just decided you had nothing of value to me too and bailed on you?”

There was another tense silence and Jason was half afraid that Clint had gone too far with that one and braced himself for a fight. Natasha clenched her fist around the flash drive and turned her whole body to face away from both of them, radiating frustration.

“I’ll give your handler some leads,” she said quietly after a moment. “He has a few safe houses that he doesn’t think I know about.” And then, because she couldn’t give in that easily, she added bitingly, “Is SHIELD competent enough to do follow up on their own? Or do I need to hold their hand through that part too?”

Clint glanced up to the rear-view mirror and gave Jason a small, triumphant smile before letting the rest of the ride fall back into silence. Even though he hadn’t recognized the address Jason had given him, he wasn’t at all surprised to see a boy about Jason’s age, who he assumed was Liam, racing out of the front door to meet him halfway. As Liam fretted over what bruises and scrapes were visible on Jason’s face, Clint saw Coulson poke his head out the front door and give him a small wave. Satisfied that SHIELD would take over bodyguard duty from here, Clint pulled away from the curb, weaving effortlessly back into the thick San Francisco traffic.

They managed to make it all the way back to Clint’s hotel room without picking any more fights with each other, but that was largely due to the fact that Natasha wouldn’t speak to him at all. Not that he had put that much effort into trying to get her to talk anyways. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Clint was stripping off parts from his tac belt, various weapons and gadgets, and tossing them on the bed. Natasha began digging around in one of his suitcases, making him raise an eyebrow at her.

“Alright then. Make yourself at home, I guess. I call first shower.”

She didn’t respond, instead silently pulling out his laptop and getting herself settled at the table. He didn’t bother to ask how she’d known which suitcase he kept it in.

“You’ll need the password,” he warned.

“No I won’t.”

~~~

As soon as he shut the water off fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Clint barely had time to reach for a towel before Natasha slipped inside the room.

“I tracked his cell phone to SF International,” she said, all business now and pointedly not looking at him as he struggled with the towel. She quickly wiped the mirror with her hand to get rid of the steam and began checking herself over for new injuries from the fight. “If they hurry, your team should be able to catch him before he boards his flight. If not…I can track it again, I guess. Assuming he doesn’t suddenly grow a brain and realize he should get rid of devices with GPS.” Finding no serious injuries in need of immediate medical attention, she turned back to face him, whipping off her shirt and tossing it on the towel rack. “I hope you didn’t use all the hot water.”

There was still a bra to cover…things, but Clint’s mouth dropped in surprise anyways. He opened and closed it several times before he managed to form words. “No. I’ll uh…I’ll leave you to it then…”

She gave him her little half-smirk that let him know she’d succeeded in…whatever the hell she’d been trying to do, and then he was outside of the bathroom, fumbling for the doorknob and practically slamming the door shut in his haste.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read this on Tumblr: http://natashabromanoff.tumblr.com/post/150107740146

After giving Coulson the lead on Powell, Clint decided to take his next concern straight to Director Fury. Going over your handler’s head wasn’t generally acceptable, but he wanted no middle men for this part. He wasn’t sure Coulson would be able to make a good case for her anyways.

“Barton, tell me you have good news.”

“Not uh…not exactly, sir. I mean, it’s not really bad news either I guess.”

“Make it quick, I don’t have all night.”

Clint could hear some kind of commotion in the background and suddenly realized that DC was three hours ahead of him. But it sounded like people shouting and maybe a helicopter or two. Did the Director ever sleep?

“Alright,” Clint sighed. “We couldn’t get the file, it was destroyed. I was hoping for an extension on the um…deadline. Long enough to recover it from the original source.”

“You want me to give you more time to play super-spy with the girl you were supposed to have killed a week ago?”

“Sir, I have strong reason to believe she really does want to defect to SHIELD.”

The chaos in the background was getting louder and Fury sounded both frustrated and a little out of breath when he answered. “So bring her in to defect. I already gave you the go ahead on this, Barton.”

“She won’t do anything until she has that file.”

“We’ll get the damn file for her once she defects. I’ve had the council on my back all week about this damned Black Widow mission that should have been quick and easy and I honestly have bigger things to worry about right now. Just get it done.”

Clint was half-tempted to end the conversation there, but he knew Fury wouldn’t appreciate being left out of the details on what exactly getting the file would entail. And he got the feeling the fastest way to scare Natasha off would be to make promises about that file that he wasn’t sure he could keep. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a deep breath. “The only source we know of is in Russia. Likely in the Lubyanka.”

There was a distinct feeling of hesitation on the other end of the line.

“Agent Barton, are you trying to start another cold war with Russia?”

“No sir, I just-“

“If SHIELD is caught anywhere near the restricted access area of that building, that’s exactly what it will be seen as. An act of war. Now personally, I am not in favor of starting a war with another country just because some strange girl I met yesterday batted her eyelashes at me.”

“That’s not at all-“

“And I know the council won’t be in favor of that either. Would you like to try to explain to them why we should take that risk for an enemy assassin?”

“Just give her another week. I won’t go anywhere near the building and she doesn’t represent SHIELD right now.”

“Bullshit you won’t go anywhere near that building, do you honestly think I don’t know you that well?”

“Sir-“

“How do you even know she wants to defect? That she isn’t just using the first idiot she could find to do something dangerous for her? You realize that manipulation is literally her specialty?” Clint was silent at that and Fury said firmly, “The original offer still stands. If you can convince her to drop this obsession with that file and defect to SHIELD tomorrow morning, fine. Otherwise…”

The director trailed off, leaving the obvious threat unfinished. But the message was loud and clear anyways.

“You’ve never failed a mission before, Agent Barton,” Fury said. “I’ve never had to send anyone to clean up after you. I really don’t want to start now.”

The line went dead and Clint slowly set his phone back on the table in front of him.

“Problem?” Natasha’s voice from the doorway of the bathroom startled him and he realized he hadn’t even heard the shower shut off. She was somehow wearing clean clothes, a black t-shirt and jeans that he was positive she hadn’t been carrying with her for the whole mission. Unless she had a secret stash of emergency clothes hidden somewhere in his hotel room. Which honestly wouldn’t surprise him at this point.

“Where did you even get those?”

Natasha glanced down at her shirt casually and shrugged. “Swiped them from someone’s suitcase on the way up.”

Clint sighed and tried not to let the amusement show on his face. When Natasha made no effort towards moving or speaking beyond that answer, Clint took a deep breath and sat forward in his chair.

“Alright. I’ll go first,” he began. “You aren’t a lost cause. Maybe sometimes you need reminding of that, but…I really think I was right about you. You could have ended all of this tonight if you’d just killed Jason, and you didn’t. So yeah, I’m glad I didn’t give up and bail on you. Even if you are kind of a pain in the ass sometimes.”

He thought that last part might at least get a smile, but Natasha stared at him, keeping her face carefully blank. Finally she moved, crossing the room to take her usual seat at the small table.

“I didn’t want Powell to hunt him down again, I just…thought it would be more difficult to track him,” she explained quietly. “I don’t have time for lengthy side missions right now, and I thought I’d already sacrificed enough to keep Summers alive tonight.”

Clint nodded slowly. “You don’t have time…because you’re going to Russia, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to avoid it. I wanted to stay as far away from their base as possible, but…” There was a sudden hint of vulnerability in her expression and Clint could clearly hear Fury’s little lecture on manipulation repeating in his head. It didn’t feel like manipulation. But, he guessed, that was probably the point. “Even if I manage to hire someone competent enough to go for me, I can’t have anyone holding this information over my head again. I just can’t. It has to be me.”

“The only way I was able to convince Director Fury to let me keep you alive,” Clint began slowly, “was to promise him that you’d have your shit dealt with and would be ready to join SHIELD by tomorrow morning.”

“That’s why we had to do it before Saturday?” Natasha’s asked, raising her eyebrows. “You couldn’t have maybe…told me we were working under a deadline?” Clint winced and she continued coolly, “Well I can’t get to Russia and back by tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I know, I just. He won’t let me extend the date again.” He hesitated for only a split second before deciding to lay out everything clearly for her. A vague warning was nobody’s friend. “If you won’t defect by the deadline and I don’t kill you, he’ll send someone who will.”

Natasha nodded calmly, as though she’d already figured that out. “Powell was right, wasn’t he? SHIELD won’t risk pissing off the Russian government for someone as insignificant as me.”

“Not insignificant,” he corrected. “Just not exactly…one-hundred percent trusted yet.”

She didn’t speak, but her gaze was heavy with the unspoken accusation.

You promised.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Clint had to admit Fury had a point. Just how many men had met their end because of that look?

“How about this,” he tried. “Defect, join SHIELD, prove to Fury that you can be trusted and maybe somewhere down the line he’ll reconsider. Despite…all of this, he’s actually a pretty reasonable guy.”

The compromise sounded fair enough to Clint, but Natasha regarded him for a moment before leaning forward in her chair, placing her elbows on the table.

“Every time I fall asleep, a dozen new memories try to force their way back into my head. If I’m lucky, I manage to remember a brief glimpse of one when I wake up, which makes the absolutely horrifying headache almost worth it. But everything conflicts with each other. You know the other night I forgot which city I grew up in? That’s simple enough, right? That’s something you remember without having to think too hard about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Yesterday, I had this…vision stuck in my head. I was choking the life out of a girl, maybe nine years old. A group of other children cheered me on. An older woman and three men scolded me afterwards for not killing her faster, more efficiently. But I’ve never done that. Children have always been a deal breaker for me and all of my employers have known that. Yesterday, that little girl’s face was the only thing I saw every time I closed my eyes. This morning I woke up and couldn’t remember a single thing about what she looked like. So it couldn’t have been real, could it?”

The question caught him off guard. Somewhere during her story, her voice had gone from harsh to desperate. She wasn’t just relaying a confusing story to shock him anymore, she was silently begging for help. For him, for anyone, to tell her that it was ridiculous. That killing a child wasn’t something she’d be able to forget. That she was making a big deal out of what would end up amounting to a bad dream. All in her head.

Tell me it couldn’t have been real.

He couldn’t.

When Natasha realized she wasn’t going to get an answer out of him, she blinked once and all traces of the lost little girl in her expression was gone, replaced with something darker, angrier.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like? To not be able to trust your own mind? To feel like you’re missing weeks, years of your life? Every second that I have to wonder about what they did to me in that place…what I may have done in that place…is hell. Absolute torture. Now tell me, would you sit around and wait for someone else to decide when you’re allowed to find out the truth?”

And if she hadn’t had his unwavering loyalty and sympathy before, she did now. Maybe Fury had been onto something after all. Clint didn’t care.

“No,” he breathed.

“Are you going to kill me, Agent Barton?”

“No.” He was almost afraid he’d answered too quickly. There probably should have at least been some type of hesitation in his answer, if for no other reason than to keep her from getting too complacent with him. But the decision had already been made and he didn’t see himself going back on it anytime soon.

Natasha shrugged, leaning back in her chair, having successfully made her point. “I’m not afraid of whoever else he’ll send.”

“He won’t give you another chance to defect, you know that right?” Clint asked. Fury was somewhat reasonable about second chances, but this? To say that this was pushing his limits was an understatement.

“It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyways,” she said, letting a small half-smile play on her lips.

“SHIELD won’t be able to protect you from them. You won’t have anyone to watch your back.”

“I’ll figure something out.” A shrug and then, a little wistfully, “I always do.”

“It took seven of Powell’s best men to break into a high security Russian government building and steal old top secret KGB files? And they barely made it out alive?”

“So he said.” With that, she stood, using her hip to push her chair in. “Wish me luck?” Clint didn’t respond, and she tried not to be too put off by his silence. It didn’t matter anymore now anyways, if this was the last time she’d be seeing him. “Well. Wish I could say it’s been fun. Goodbye, Agent Barton.”

She was halfway to the door when she heard a defeated sigh from behind her. His voice stopped her in her tracks. 

“Think you and I will be able to do better?”

She turned to face him, and he was almost positive that was genuine surprise on her face…although nothing was certain with Natasha. She looked him over cautiously.

“I mean there’s only two of us, but…” he continued with a shrug. “I think we made a good team.”

Natasha took two careful steps towards him, resisting the urge to bring up the list of all the ways they’d fucked up tonight. That probably wouldn’t be helpful, and she wasn’t about to run off an extra pair of eyes to guard her back. Not with the stakes as high as they were. But she did have to make sure he knew what he was agreeing to. There was no leeway for him to get cold feet at the last second and back out on her. “They’ll be looking for you too then,” she warned.

“SHIELD or the Red Room?”

“Both.”

“Yeah, well.” Clint shrugged and threw up his hands in what he thought was a very clear ah, fuck it gesture. “We’ll figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lubyanka is KGB headquarters, for those who didn't know.


End file.
